


i'd really hate to think whoever you are is someone i wouldn't get along with

by Anonymous



Category: Destiny (Video Games), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Guardian-Typical Memory Loss, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There are two men and two ghosts in a room long after the of the world.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Anonymous





	i'd really hate to think whoever you are is someone i wouldn't get along with

**Author's Note:**

> If you have no idea what what Destiny the game is, thanks for clicking into this anyways. There's a three sentence summary/explanation of relevant lore stuff in the end notes.

A man takes a deep breath and immediately chokes on ash. He sits up, coughing and spitting, and tries to figure out what's happening. He's in the rotting shell of a collapsed building. Something smells burnt but the air is humid and the walls are moldy—

He hears—a woman, maybe—clear her throat and shuffles around awkwardly, searching for the source of the noise. He can't stop coughing and his eyes start to tear up.

The first thing he notices is another man sitting on a slab of crumbling concrete, his head in his hands. He's wearing a ridiculous purple cape with gold detailing. There's a single feather poking off his hood and a cracked helmet by his boots.

"Hi, Geralt," says a much closer voice. He starts and realizes he managed to miss a spiky metal ball hovering near his face. The center of the ball looks kind of like an eye, he thinks. His guess is confirmed when the spiky ball squints at him.

"Hi," Geralt responds blankly. "I—I'm—What—"

"You're Geralt," the spiky ball says helpfully. "I'm your Ghost." The ball motions towards the other man using its spikes in an impressively expressive maneuver. "That sad sack of mediocre taste over there is Jaskier. Pegasus is around here somewhere. He went to see if there's anything useful in the basement of this shithole. He's Jaskier's Ghost."

There are piles of rusted metal scrap all over the room and a single cracked computer screen flickering dimly on one of the walls. Weak morning light filters in through a single broken window. Geralt supposes it is kind of a shithole.

"Nice to meet you," Geralt replies. He pauses, weighing his options. "What's your name?" That seems like the right response.

"I'm going to kill you," says the man in the cape, head still down, voice thick.

"Inadvisable, sugar tits," the spiky ball replies tartly, not looking away from Geralt.

Her unblinking focus is a little unsettling. Geralt swipes at his eyes self-consciously, wrinkling his nose when he accidentally smears the grit on his hands all over his face.

Geralt considers the other man for a second, trying to decide if he should be bothered by his tone. That hadn't really seemed like the type of question to warrant violence, but he's... new here? He's probably new here. He's definitely missing something. He doesn't have the faintest fucking clue where _here_ is. Or who he is, now that he thinks about it. His mild offense morphs into confusion when he realizes Jaskier's nasty look is directed at the spiky ball, who's ignoring him.

" _Anyways_ , Geralt," the ball continues, "I don't officially have a name, but you're more than welcome to give me one. And... Hmm. Concerning our immediate future—I have some good news. But also some pretty bad news." Jaskier raises his head and snorts derisively before he sniffles a bit. Geralt glances at him again and does an unsubtle double take. The man's eyes are red-rimmed and his face is very splotchy.

"Shut it, twinkle toes," snaps Geralt's Ghost. "We'll all have a nice sit-down chat about my life choices and everyone's _memory problems_ once we're not at serious risk of getting exploded into next week."

"Or immolated and kabobbed by an extremely hormonal broodmother and her fucking platoon-slash-harem of stab-happy baby daddies," Jaskier mutters, looking downright mutinous, "that your contact failed to mention."

The ghost twirls the rusty plate around her eye and goes back to ignoring him. "Here's the good news: We've only got about five miles between us and our ride out of here. The bad news is a two-parter. We weren't supposed to be out here in the first place, so calling for backup is currently both very difficult and extremely inadvisable. And these ruins are swarming with—"

"Zombies," says Jaskier flatly. Geralt's Ghost turns and gives him a look that earns her a rude gesture. Geralt thinks, absently, that it might have been a very bad attempt at a joke.

"Not zombies," she says, turning back to Geralt.

"Fine," Jaskier says, throwing up his hands. "Aliens. A lot of them. An entire happy fucking family headed up by one of Nightmare Daddy's third or fourth cousins fifty times removed. She's not exactly in the mood to let anyone see the babies or to negotiate with terrorists, which is why we got, um, kinda sorta stuck up here in the first place. We—"

He abruptly stops talking. There's a flash and a clang as a second, much shinier and less spiky ball-Ghost-thing appears in the middle of the room. A sword—of all fucking things—drops to the ground out of thin air.

"Fuck," says Jaskier, looking at the sword with a pained expression. "That's it?" The second Ghost nods without saying anything and drifts off to examine the broken terminal.

"Great," mutters the spiky ball. "Useful as always, Peggy."

Jaskier's shoulders slump for a moment before he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Okay. Fine. You," he points at the spiky ball, " _hush_ and leave off. He's doing his best, and this is better than nothing. We can make do."

He stands up and gives Geralt a once-over before offering him a hand. Geralt hesitates before he takes it, and is surprised when Jaskier pulls him up into a tight hug.

It's... nice, Geralt thinks. He suspects Jaskier is friend he's somehow forgotten. He finds himself hugging back despite being caught off guard. Jaskier lets him go after a long moment, blinking rapidly at the filthy ceiling of their hidey-hole.

"Roach," Geralt says suddenly. Four eyes snap to him.

"Excuse me?" Jaskier croaks. He looks haunted.

"You can be Roach," Geralt tells his Ghost. Right now, that's the only thing in the entire world he's absolutely sure of. He'd stake his soul on that name, but he kind of wishes he knew why.

**Author's Note:**

> [Pegasus ](https://i.imgur.com/ZJazojD.png)||[ Roach ](https://i.imgur.com/upnEy7J.jpg)||[ Jaskier's silly little cape ](https://i.imgur.com/Bb9JNNY.png)
> 
> Lore Note:  
> In Destiny, you can can be resurrected after death if ghost chooses to rez you, but there's three big caveats. You have to have already died, you lose all of your memories except for bits and pieces of things that may or may not be real, and you get informally/not actually mandatorily conscripted into fighting wars in the name of a giant god sphere because you get mysterious powers post-rez. Geralt died accidentally and was brought back as a guardian very soon after. He has no idea who he is, who Jaskier is, where he is, or what they're doing.
> 
> \- Geralt remembering the name he's given to every horse he ever owned right out the gate is probably pushing it  
> \- Roach spent YEARS keeping tabs on Geralt bc she wanted dibs  
> \- [Oryx is nightmare daddy](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/ghost-community-theater-presents)  
> I haven't written anything in almost a decade, but sometimes you just gotta, I guess...


End file.
